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Madeline

With other poems and parables: By Thomas Gordon Hake
Hake, Thomas Gordon (1809-1895)

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MADELINE.
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THE WORLD'S EPITAPH.
 I. 
I. ON ART.
 II. 
II. ON MUSIC.
 III. 
III. ON POETRY.
 IV. 
IV. ON THE STORM OF LIFE.
 V. 
V. ON THE RAINBOW.
 VI. 
VI. ON THE SANCTUARY.
 VII. 
VII. ON NATURE.
 VIII. 
VIII. ON TIME.
 IX. 
IX. ON THE FUTURE.
 X. 
X. ON THE SOUL.
 XI. 
XI. ON THE SOUL.
 XII. 
XII. ON GLORY.
 XIII. 
XIII. ON PEACE.
 XIV. 
XIV. ON THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.
 XV. 
XV. ON GENIUS.
 XVI. 
XVI. ON DEPARTING PEACE.
 XVII. 
XVII. ON NATURE.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. ON LIFE.
 XIX. 
XIX. ON HOPE.
 XX. 
XX. ON THOUGHT.
 XXI. 
XXI. ON THE SEASONS OF LIFE.
 XXII. 
XXII. ON PASSION.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. ON THE NUPTIALS.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. ON THE SIREN.
 XXV. 
XXV. ON THE IMAGE.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. ON THE INFANT AT THE BREAST.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. ON THE WIDOW.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. ON PITY.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. ON THE BEREAVED.
 XXX. 
XXX. ON EARLY DEATH.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. ON THE DESERTED.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. ON DISSIPATED YOUTH.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. ON CONSCIENCE.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. ON SLUMBER.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. ON THE PILLOW OF THE WRETCHED.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI. ON A MOTHER.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. ON THE OUTCAST.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. ON CHARITY.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. ON THE SAINT.
 XL. 
XL. ON THE SISTER OF MERCY.
 XLI. 
XLI. ON THE STATESMAN.
 XLII. 
XLII. ON OLD AGE.
 XLIII. 
XLIII. ON PENITENCE.
 XLIV. 
XLIV. ON MADNESS.
 XLV. 
XLV. ON DESPAIR.
 XLVI. 
XLVI. ON THE STRUGGLE FOR IMMORTALITY.
 XLVII. 
XLVII. ON MAN.
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII. ON FATE.
 XLIX. 
XLIX. ON DESPOTISM.
 L. 
L. ON PRIDE.
 LI. 
LI. ON THE PRISONER.
 LII. 
LII. ON REMORSE.
 LIII. 
LIII. ON HYPOCRISY.
 LIV. 
LIV. ON THE MASK.
 LV. 
LV. ON SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS.
 LVI. 
LVI. ON CUNNING.
 LVII. 
LVII. ON BELIEF.
 LVIII. 
LVIII. ON THE DEATH-BED OF THE WISE.
 LIX. 
LIX. ON THE PHILOSOPHER.
 LX. 
LX. ON DELIRIUM.
 LXI. 
LXI. ON THE CLOSE OF LIFE.
 LXII. 
LXII. ON THE CHURCHYARD.
 LXIII. 
LXIII. ON THE TOMBS.
 LXIV. 
LXIV. ON DEATH.
 LXV. 
LXV. ON THE RESURGAM.

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190

XIII. ON PEACE.

Peace, let us keep thy natal day!
In us fulfil thy promised way.
Yield to our suit, thy suppliants hear,
O holy being, ever dear!
Be ours in silence, ours in death;
The solace of our parting breath!
Calm passion of the glassy deep,
More than the lull that covers sleep,
More than the still, uncancelled light,
That tints the starry wake of night;
Known best in absence, like the one
So loved when near but most when gone:
Are we to ask of thee no sign,
No vision of thy gift benign,
And by thy memory overcast,
To ply our sorrows in the past?
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